Cold Sweat
by xSecretHeart
Summary: After a particularly scathing fight between Miriam and Big Bob, Helga finds solace at Arnold's boarding house; only to have the two of them unconscious on the floor due to a rather comedic accident. Waking up separately, they find themselves somewhere in the past. Will they be able to figure out what happened? How are they going to make it back? T to be safe. R&R!
1. Criminy

**Disclaimer / A/N : **All characters belong to Craig Bartlett / Viacom / etc. Teen for language & situations.

On with the show, and please do remember to review!

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The house was dark. That was the first thing seventeen year old Helga noticed. _Isn't it supposed to be light by now?_ Picking up her throbbing head off the wood floor, she popped her neck and turned to see the grandfather clock in the hall. Her eyes strained to read the numerals, only to find that it wasn't ticking. _Criminy, just when I finally __**need**__ to read that blasted thing, it isn't even working!_

She sighed, connecting her palm to her forehead, realizing her perfectly functioning cell phone was in her pocket. The time that greeted her, told her otherwise. _3:40 pm. So much for perfectly-functioning, _she thought dryly. Something in the blond's gut told her things were out of place, though. She tore her way downstairs and opened the curtains. Moonlight flooded the supposed living room, eyes widening at the surroundings she found herself in. _What. What is this? We don't have a huge-ass oak desk here. Where's the TV and sound system?_

"Miri! Get back upstairs, into your bed immediately! It's the middle of the night for Christ's sake!" yelled a stern, unfamiliar voice. Helga's head snapped up. _Who.. who's Miri?_

Suddenly, the owner of the voice burst into the room, eyes closed in tired frustration as he seized Helga's ear painfully, leading her back upstairs. "Miri. How many times do I have to repeat myself?" Roughly, he pushed the teenager into a feminine-looking room, finally making eye contact with the girl. His pale blue eyes widened. "You're not Miri..."

Helga was rubbing her bruised ear as she retorted in a sardonic voice, "No shit Sherlock, _of course I'm not Miri!_"

The man before her disregarded the insult, opting to cross his arms instead. "Then, _young lady,_ where is Miri, and _why_ are you in my house?"

"Hell if I know."

He gruffly sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, realizing the girl before him knew as much about the current situation as he did. "Look, I won't press charges if you leave immediately. Just don't be lying if you say you have no idea why you're here, or where my daughter is."

"I'm not, sheesh." She looked around the room before the man sighed and turned to give her space to leave. "The window's open, though." Helga shrugged, finally leaving the guy to his own devices, and making her way outside. _No use staying there,_ she reasoned with herself.

No sooner did she make it out onto the stoop, did she catch the sight of a slim blond girl, about her age, shimmying up a makeshift rope of assorted blankets, up to the open window. The blond went rigid at the sound of the front door closing, and the two girls made eye contact. Helga's eyebrows rose, as did the girl's, but broke their staring contest as the rope she clung to started ascending. Helga saluted the poor lass.

"Good luck, your old man is quite the character."

She was on the sidewalk before eying the house she unintentionally broke into. ...It was **hers**. _Then why was it so different? _She narrowed her eyes at the sight.

Helga kept walking, not knowing exactly where to go, and feeling completely out of touch with reality. _If, if this is my house... I'm just going to assume all the houses other houses are filled with strangers too._ She looked down at her pink sneakers as she walked, fingering the cell phone in her pocket, scared to reach out to anyone in case she was alone in this parallel universe. She looked up, when the unmistakable silhouette of someone familiar was running up the street to meet her.

"Helga!" Arnold panted, clearly coming from the direction of the boarding house; two blocks away.

"Arnold!" She exclaimed in unison with him, stopping in her tracks to allow the boy to catch his breath. The boy encompassed her in a hug, evidently relieved by her presence.

"I had a feeling you were here! Thank God I was right! Something strange is going on, Helga." The girl was trying hard to find the words that were currently stuck in her throat, her arms loosely reciprocating his embrace; shocked by the show of affection.

She regained her composure, gently shoving off the tall boy. "You're telling me. I woke up in my own house, but it wasn't mine." Her eyes were wild, arms flailing as she recalled what happened to her minutes before.

All the while, Arnold was nodding his head vigorously, interjecting that he had practically the same initial experience, minus the family drama. Finally, it was his own turn to talk, as he led her along, his hand ghosting over the small of her back. _At least **he** knows where to go._

Her skin, beneath both the plain white tank-top and grey hoodie, still felt electricity jolt through her under his touch. He paid no attention though, as he started telling his own bizarre tale.

"So yeah, I woke up too, and I knew it was the boarding house, but..."

The place was dimly lit, as Arnold came-to in the front hall. He groaned when he picked himself up and dusted off his pants. Taking out his cell phone to check the time, he was almost sure it should be daylight outside. He looked around, realizing that he was indeed, in the boarding house —everything was the same. The sound of tentative footsteps broke his thoughts, as he looked up to meet the eyes of a very confused blond-haired first grader.

Equally confused, Arnold raised his hands up in an attempt to placate the child, who looked as though he was about to— "Dad! Some kid is in the house! His head is shaped funny!" _Too late_. Arnold sighed, hearing a door upstairs immediately open, and the footsteps that came along with it.

Phil made his way downstairs, tiredly raking his hand through his brown hair. He sighed, looking at the time. "Miles," he called out into the darkness, "I know it's late and everything is a lot more exciting when the lights are off, but your imagination needs rest, too." He stopped at the foot of the stairs, scooping the child up in his arms. By this time, Arnold's breath hitched at the sound of his father's name; and his assumptions were confirmed when he set eyes on his young grandfather. He cleared his throat, finally drawing attention to the teenager; unable to verbalize any of his thoughts into something coherent.

"Oh! Jeepers!" Phil held his son closer to him as he stumbled backwards in surprise. "Kid, what are you doing in the boarding house? Are you here to steal something? Because there isn't anything worth stealing. I'll call the authorities!" The words were pouring out of the man's mouth, before finally getting a look at the boy; whose green eyes seemed wide with terror at the prospect of police (not knowing he was just shocked by everything that just transpired). Phil continued, calming down a bit as he lowered Miles, patting the child to signal him to go upstairs. "You don't look like a hooligan. Do you want a room here? There _are_ normal business hours; you don't have to sneak in and claim a room as if this were a free-for-all."

Arnold finally cleared his throat again, finding himself weaving a scenario in his head. "I— uh..." He instinctively thought of Helga, unable to pinpoint why "—Me and my friend don't have a place to stay. Uh. We're new here and—"

Phil held a hand up to stop him. "Come upstairs, we have a room open; Gertie wouldn't appreciate me turning down someone in the middle of the night." The pajama-clad man was already making his way up the steps, still talking, "Especially if they urgently needed a place to sleep. We can talk in the morning about details. What's your name? Where's your friend?"

Arnold was following him, voice failing him once more as he reveled in the knowledge that this man really _was_ his grandpa, but he _wasn't_ old. _And_ he didn't know who Arnold was, _and_ Miles (his father, he assumed) was approximately only seven years old. _What is going __**on**__?_

"She's scouring for a place to bunk, too. But I'll go get her now. Thank you so much, uh—"

"—Phil. No worries. Just lock the door when you get back." The man quirked his brow. "A _girl_, huh? I'll fix up a cot, you look too young for hanky-panky."

Arnold blushed at the statement, excusing himself to go outside. Once in the street, he looked up at the building, just to make sure it was the boarding house. He quickly took his cell phone out of his pocket, calling Helga's number.

Silence.

Not even the jarring sound of a disconnected line.

His heart fell, pounding with the fear that he might be alone in this parallel universe; but something in him needed to make sure. Without looking back, he fell into a full sprint toward the Pataki residence.

He finished his tale, the two of them back at the red-bricked building. He led her up the stairs, trying to fight the impulse to head all the way to his attic of a room, turning instead, into the room given to them by 'Phil'.

They sat facing eachother, Helga on the bed and Arnold on the cot, gathering together the fragments of what just occurred between the two of them. Helga had her hoodie off, quite uncomfortable to sleep in for longer than a nap; whereas Arnold lent her his over-shirt for a little more modesty, leaving him in his trademark _mountain-meadow _green shirt —as Helga mentally/affectionately coined, (after a color she found in a box of 64 crayons in elementary school).

"So, you think the kid here is your dad?" She asked softly, voice permeating the darkness.

He looked up at her from having bore a hole into the comforter on the cot, "I don't just think so, I'm sure of it."

The girl looked away, remembering the summer after fourth grade, when her beloved vanished along with his grandparents, supposedly in search of the humanitarian parents whom Arnold excitedly told everyone about. She didn't really believe in a God, but that summer she prayed every night for him and his grandparents be safe, for Arnold to find his parents, for the strength that; come what may —she'd find a way to keep loving him.

Two of the three of those wishes were brought into light when the three came back; tired, but none worse for wear. Arnold never really talked about the adventure, the most their classmates got out of him was a shake of the head when asked whether he found them. Even Gerald didn't know what went on that summer. The little hopeful Arnold that left for the trip, never came back. He still smiled, and laughed, and looked at the silver-lining, but it wasn't the same.

The two teens laid in their separate sleeping arrangements, just staring at the ceiling; anxiousness almost palpable in the air. They couldn't sleep now, especially after it all, adding onto the fact that they were practically suffering from jet-lag. Helga was first to break the silence again. She had so many words flitting about her head, she needed to say _something_; otherwise she'd explode.

"Arnoldo, I hate to admit this, but I'm actually pretty scared."

"Yeah, me too."

The anxiousness seeped into her voice "...We need fake aliases or something. And, and stories."

"Good thinking." He sat up looking at her. "...You write well. You think you can make up something plausible for us?"

Helga visibly gulped at the compliment, sitting up as well, breaking eye contact in favor of acting as if she were thinking up a plot for the two of them. The wheels in her head eventually did start spinning though, and the ideas came rushing out.

"Uhm, judging by the outfit I saw on Miri, it's the seventies... so they're supposed to be a lot more lenient when it comes to school and stuff. We could say we're two foster kids that got released early? We still need to finish the last year of high school? Or— or we're college freshmen that come to survey... the high schools around New York. Infiltrate the school systems to find out about the 'Youth of Today'! Yeah, that's it. It was spur of the moment, though; this project, so the college has yet to be able to fund our journey and—"

Arnold, though amazed at how quickly she was able to conjure up an alibi, was confused about the one detail that was similar between the two fictions, cutting off Helga for a moment. "—Why do we have to go to the high school?"

"Because we're not old enough to look inconspicuous outside of school, _doi_. As lenient as they are, we want to stay on the down-low as much as possible."

"Okay... yeah. Wow, you're brilliant!" Arnold laughed, throwing his hands up toward her, then using one to rub the back of his neck when he brought them down. "But uh, I like the foster kids excuse better, since it would mean a lot _less_ lying."

"I guess." Through the darkness, Helga was blushing deep crimson. _I'm brilliant? _She honestly didn't care which alibi he bit into, but knowing he thought of her having some sort of mental prowess was just too much for her to handle. She continued, "Now for names."

"No one knows us, we could probably keep our names."

"What if we return? Will that change _anything_?"

"I just don't want to lie any more than we have to, Helga."

She smirked, "Fine fine, Mr. Goody Two-shoes. But if we get back and our names are Conrad and Rosalind; _I'll_ know who to beat up." Her smirk faltered, realizing those were some of the potential names she thought up for their children.

Arnold just chuckled at her humor, "Whatever you say, Helga. Those are pretty good names, though!"

Helga fell back onto the bed, choosing to hide beneath the covers although her whole body felt warm from his unintentional agreement. Arnold followed suit, laying back onto the cot.

A stretch of silence descended again upon the two, as they replayed the events that earlier on in the 'day'.

Ever since Olga married Maddock two weeks ago, (a guy Helga actually approved of, but her parents didn't —for superficial (cough-money-cough) reasons), her parents were at eachother's throats now more than ever. The usual excuses of school activities and the like, still didn't give her time enough away to escape the crossfire. Usually, they were good at keeping their tension at bay when Helga got home, but this time, after tutoring some freshmen in English, she found herself at the thick of it.

"Bob,_** I**_ certainly don't care anymore that the man doesn't own a fortune! She loves him, and he loves her; do you _remember_ how that felt?" He heard her mother hiccup.

"Miriam, _our daughter's future is at stake_," Bob retorted, exasperated, "with a man who owns virtually **nothing**! He doesn't deserve her —heck, I'm still reeling from the surprise that _you_ 'remember' anything before this morning! Put the damn smoothie down, Miriam!"

"Wh-what are you _implying_, Bob?"

Helga sighed, having none of this today. She left before her presence was known, sticking her hands inside her hoodie pockets as she walked down the street. She could have very well gone to Phoebe's, if it weren't date night for her and tall (not so tall) hair boy tonight, so she sighed, choosing instead to head to Arnold's. She pulled the beanie down, as the chill of September went through her.

The two blonds inevitably became good friends once their best friends started dating, and once Arnold and Gerald both realized Helga's bully act was almost completely done for. She still scalded the two on occasion, with her blunt remarks and witty sarcasm, but this time around, her insults and nicknames had more of a friendly air to them. So naturally, the four became close.

Helga rarely used the front door, avoiding the awkward and probing nature of both Arnold's grandparents and the boarders —who though lovable and crazy, were mostly just crazy. She tapped the glass of the skylight, still feeling like an intruder although she's made the trip many a-time. He pulled his headphones off, and grinned up at her from his computer, motioning for her to come in.

She cast a small smile down in return, and as if second nature, slipped right in, careful to leave her worn-out sneakers on the roof. She flopped down onto the bed, as he turned his attention back to the essay he was working on.

Distractedly, he implored, "Parents at it again?"

"Doi."

She sighed, making sure he wasn't looking when she took a big whiff of his pillow. She took a mental note for the billionth time (for each visit there), she _must_ know what shampoo he uses.

"Just take a nap, I need to finish this essay before we do anything. I'll pop in a movie when I'm done, but for now I can't have any distractions, sorry Helga."

A murmured response came from Helga, which was enough for him to pull the headphones back on. She took his advice and fell fast asleep, surrounded by the scent of her one true love.

A jolt of thunder woke her up though, her eyes opening to an Arnold looming over her.

"Criminy, football head! Are you about to kill me or something?" She joked, voice a little nervous from the scene.

"No! Of course not, Helga. I was just about to wake you up. The power died; I took your shoes in before it got really bad outside." He sat at the edge of the bed as she too, sat up.

"Oh, thanks. Did you save your essay?"

It was still day time, so the room had a little light, and she saw him nod in response. "Anyway, usually during black-outs like these, Grandma dresses up like a Campfire Lass and makes hot chocolate for everyone, so we should head downstairs."

Just as the two teens made their way over to the door, a clash of lighting lit the room and the door burst open, a shadow barring the opening.

Helga shrieked, instinctively jumping into Arnold's arms, and although she hasn't done that in years, he (just as compulsively) caught her.

Arnold called out into the darkness, "...Grandpa?"

"Geez Shortman, I wasn't aware you had company over," chuckled the elderly man.

The two teens finally turned their heads toward one another, taking in the scenario. Helga's pixie-cut hair was disheveled from the nap, clothes askew; both their eyes widening. He let her down gently, without a word, smiling sheepishly at his grandfather.

"I, uh; it isn't what it looks—"

Grandpa waved away the excuse, stating his reason for coming up. "Pookie just made some hot chocolate if you two want to, uh, cease and desist for now." He gave a teasing wink to the two before making his way down.

Blushing, neither Helga nor Arnold were able to make eye contact with one another when exiting his room. They could hear the bustle of the boarders downstairs, as the two made their way to the second set of steps.

The teens picked up on Grandma's voice first, rolling her R's and performing a good impression of the green-plaid girls. "I present to all of ye, me newest batch of raspberry tarts!"

"Kokoschka!" Grandpa's irate voice boomed seconds later, "Leave at least two for the kids! And no, _you can't have the rest of them_; you haven't paid your rent fully for the month yet!"

The two teens chuckled, sitting at the top of the steps just to listen in some more.

"Oskar, _please_. You are a grown man."

"Heh heh, _but Suzie_, that only means I _need_ the food. You know.. as they say -heh; 'the fastest way to a man's heart is his stomach'!" whined the man in return.

Another person spoke up, "Listen to your wife, _you sleaze_. If you worked under my team at our demolition sites, you and your attitude would have been —Pow!— flat as a pancake by now."

"You must show more respect to your elders," Helga smiled slightly, recognizing the voice as the Vietnamese man whose daughter was reunited with him years before, "He doesn't have much time left."

"Waddya mean by _that_?"

Arnold rolled his eyes as an imminent fight broke out. The two teenagers rose to see Oskar roughly rush his way back upstairs, arms full of raspberry tarts, and smiling sheepishly at them. Suddenly, Arnold heard another shriek from Helga, and the sound of her colliding with the wood. He tried to catch her, failing; as he too fell forward trying to grab her hand, realizing the bearded man probably knocked her off-balance.

Landing with a thud, Helga almost face planted as Arnold gracelessly landed atop her, both their heads knocking into eachother's unceremoniously. The commotion of the accident was masked by another clap of thunder, along with the yelling contest in the kitchen, before the two slipped into unconsciousness.

Arnold was used to the creaking and groaning of the boarding house; even the occasional animal skittering past. He found it comforting that aside from Helga's presence at the moment, it was something constant. For Helga though, she was put on edge.

Both the teens kept their eyes to the ceiling, Arnold's arms nonchalantly crossed behind his head, Helga just lying rigid in the sheets.

"...Arnold?" she ventured.

"Yeah?"

"I feel like this is my fault. It's gotta be. If I hadn't—"

"No, Helga. There's a reason why we're here, and the cause may have nothing to do with either of us, but we have power to change the effect. Whatever it may be." His face looked determined, though no one was looking. He loved it when Helga opened up to him, those rare moments; but this was different. He wasn't going to let her take the blame on something neither of them had the power to control. He didn't like the prospect that she, one of the strongest people he's known, would just naturally do that to themselves.

She turned to face him in the darkness, bringing up the sheets so that only her eyes and the top of her head peeked through to him. She ducked the rest of her head underneath the covers, curling up into fetal position before tenderly pulling out a normal-sized locket from around her neck. She may not be able to see the picture within it, but she ran her fingertips around the heart all the same.

_Oh, my innocent, naive, beautiful prince. So selfless, so caring; when you could have easily taken your grandparents' charming accommodations for yourself, for some inexplicable reason you came to find me... You, in all your blessed glory knew I somehow needed you. You have even graciously showered me in compliments and allowed me the honor of sleeping in your shirt for the night... Truly, you are my angel._ She sighed, quietly, melodically; and darted her head back out.

Arnold's ears perked up from the pleasant noise, startling him out of his reverie. He turned onto one of the arms beneath his head, toward the bed where he assumed the noise came from. Renewed determination was etched into his features when he caught sight of the blond, reemerging from the sheets.

She could feel his green eyes piercing the darkness and gulped. _This is going to be a long night._ Then she heard him speak.

"Helga, we're going to make it back."

Her eyes flashed up to meet his, and he was almost taken aback by how much trust he swore he felt within the gaze. They stopped speaking, caught in an inadvertent staring contest.

Maybe the time finally weighed on them. Maybe it was the solace they found within eachother, (consciously —and poetically— noted, or otherwise). Maybe it was the adrenaline of their day finally drawing to a close. But at some unspeakable hour, one of the two broke the silent conversation to welcome sleep, and the other followed suit.


	2. Déjà Vu

**Disclaimer / A/N : **All characters belong to Craig Bartlett / Viacom / etc. _Any pop-culture references have been cross-checked with Wikipedia and marked with an asterisk (*)._ Teen for language & situations.

The wait was a week longer than I wanted it to be, but summer classes got in the way. On with ze show! And please, review!

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But at some unspeakable hour, one of the two broke the silent conversation to welcome sleep, and the other followed suit.

Helga woke up first, having slept fitfully, if at all. Draping Arnold's plaid shirt onto the bed, she slipped her hoodie back on, before heading downstairs to the sound of a cooking breakfast. Upon entering the kitchen, she was greeted with the sight of a springy blond in her late thirties, whistling and flipping pancakes behind a very drowsy seven year old.

"Sup shortstop?"

He was startled awake by the sudden attention, picking his head up from his half-eaten cereal bowl. Looking up at the girl, he spoke slowly, attempting to get his wits about him. "Uh, getting ready for school..." then he brightened up as if remembering something, "Oh, and my big brother is coming home from college today!"

Helga briefly let her surprise get to her, facial expression changing at her train of thought, _Arnold has an uncle? Oh yeah, the little freak Arnie has to have a __**dad,**__ doi__..._ when the woman plopped a stack of flapjacks in front of her. Eagerly, Helga dug in.

Miles's mother placed a comforting hand on the boy's head, ruffling his hair a bit. "That's right, soldier. Your brother will be stopping by for a little bit today." Turning her attention to the seemingly starving girl, she continued, "So, Twiggy*; Phil tells me you and the boy he 'heroically saved' last night are in some sort of housing pickle?"

Helga nodded her head, vaguely understanding the reference in the name Twiggy, mouth full of syrupy goodness, unable to respond verbally.

"Well, you two are welcomed to stay as long as you like, as soon as we get things figured out. I'm Gertie," the two shook hands, "and my husband, whom I don't think you've met yet, is Phil. He's out back repairing the neighbor's fence." Gertie smiled bemusedly at Helga, whose attention was still moreso on the pancakes than the situation at hand. "I don't think I caught your name?"

Quickly, Helga reached out for some milk to drink and responded, "Hel—" but Gertie cut her off, with a finger to the blond's lips, silencing the wide-eyed teenager.

"I'm calling you Eleanor." With a stern nod, she turned to the eggs she left boiling on the stove. Miles giggled at his mother's actions before sliding off the chair and making his way out of the kitchen, making sure to bid Eleanor a goodbye.

Helga sputtered for a bit, suddenly remembering future-Gertie's preferred name for her being the exact same thing. Trying to make sure, she probed, "...Like Roosevelt?"

"The very same!" replied the older woman, over her shoulder. Helga slowed down her pancake-eating rate, tensely watching Gertie, as the woman went about her morning routine. Arnold finally traipsed down the stairs, hair a a mess and yawning, dropping into the seat next to Helga.

"Hey Gra—" Helga promptly elbowed him in the ribs, causing his eyes to open completely. Whipping his head back at Helga, he simultaneously pinched himself to make sure it wasn't a dream.

"—Ah, uh **grand old day for pancakes, dontcha think**?" Arnold smiled nervously at his companion, to which she exasperatedly rolled her eyes.

Turning around, Gertie slid another stack toward the boy, responding, "My thoughts exactly, Kimba."

Any gears that were shifting in Arnold's head suddenly halted, staring at the woman, who started to clean the counter behind her. He coughed, "Uh, Kimba?"

Helga was drinking her milk and idly surveying the exchange, when Gertie answered. "Oh, _you know_; you had a childhood, right? It's the name of that lion cub in that Japanese cartoon** that came on a couple of years ago— anyway, his name means 'Peace'." Gertie sighed reflectively, placing down a dishrag and turning around. "Hm, I guess I just have a feeling that you're the type of person who brings peace." She waved a hand toward Helga, "Eleanor here should know that."

Arnold gave his friend a puzzled look, to which she just shrugged at, when Phil came huffing through the door.

"Those Kokoschkas next door are nothing but no-good time-sucking, ungrateful—"

Gertie kissed him on the cheek, calming down his fume a bit, "—Dear, there are children present."

He looked up suddenly from his dirtied hands, looking at the two apologetically, "Sorry kids; but on a good day I _guess_ those neighbors aren't half bad. —Today's not a good day." he finished flatly.

Gertie and Phil took seats before the two teenagers, who by now, finished their breakfast. Phil placed his hands down onto the table, smoothing out a place-mat.

"So, we need answers before we can trust you two to stay for a while; you don't have to tell us everything, but we'd like to not be in the dark..." then he trailed off mumbling, "...Except for that Mr. Smith who came here a couple of weeks ago..."

Arnold's ears perked at the somewhat familiar name, "Mr. Smith?"

Phil leaned in, prompting the other three to do so as well. "He's the only one in this boarding house who keeps everything classified. _We have to place his meals on a tray in front of his door_—I haven't even seen the guy since he came in —and I mean, he's been courteous with the thank you notes and everything, and with the amount of money he's paying _voluntarily? _—I can afford _not_ to ask questions."

Gertie added, eyes narrowed, "I for one, think he's part of the the government, but Steely here thinks he works _against_ them."

Phil cleared his throat, eyes scanning the surroundings before continuing, "So, state _your_ business here. And if you weren't aware, the high school starts in t-minus one and a half hours; so you better speak quickly."

Arnold and Helga shared a look, and with Helga being the less nervous of the two, coolly started. "This is Arnold, and I'm Helga. We're orphans. Never got adopted because we came into the system at too old of an age that people usually choose kids at, so we grew up under foster care together. Anyway," she looked over at him for reassurance, but he took it for his own queue.

"We fell in love." Nervously, he took her hand for dramatic effect, looking over at the older couple who were smiling gently at the teenagers.

Helga continued, voice cracking from the surprise contact and twist of plot. It only added to their act, though. "Th-they gave us two options... either stop being in a relationship, or get kicked out."

"And, I suppose you could guess what we chose; we'd be released in a little less than a year, anyway." finished Arnold. He gave Helga's hand a squeeze, "We don't have much but the clothes on our backs and the money in our pocket—"

"—But we could run errands for you or help around the place."

Gertie's eyes were glassy with unshed tears. Giving them a watery smile, she half-whispered, "Well, I'm sold, Phil." She stood up, opening her arms to encase the teenagers.

The brunette stood up as well, wiping his hands on his trousers. "What the hey. Why not? They'd be doing a lot more around here than the other conflabbit boarders. Now go on, get ready for school. I'm sure you two could figure out how to fill out necessary forms and—" he went over to a pad of paper and a pen, scribbling down information, "You can use me and Pookie as emergency contacts."

This time it was Helga's turn to give a reaffirming squeeze with her hand. She could sense Arnold beginning to feel the strains of their lie the moment his own home number and address were handed to him, his eyebrows crinkling.

As the two turned to leave, Gertie spoke, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Should we be keeping the two of you in the same room?"

Helga's head snapped at the woman's direction, pointedly dropping Arnold's hand, yelping, "D-don't worry about us, Gertie! **Nothing** inappropriate happening—"

Phil spoke up, head shaking in amusement, "I'll clear out the attic for ya while you two are off at school. As much as I'd _like_ to trust you kids, it's just a different generation nowadays." He looped his thumbs through his suspenders, giving a wink at the two blushing teenagers.

Once they got out of earshot, Helga crossed her arms as they ascended the steps. Pointing a thumb back at his grandparents, she joked, "Criminy _Arnoldo_, what's with your grandfather and his insinuations?"

Arnold's red face coughed at the question, attempting to steer their conversation a different route. "Uh, now that we're boarders, that means we have to use the community bathroom. I really hope it isn't as bad as everyone complains it is..."

As the two reached the top of the stairs, a portly Italian man suffering from male-pattern baldness excused himself between the teenagers. Clad in a bright orange track suit and a heavy gold chain, Helga caught eyes with Arnold above the man's head, eyebrows raised at the sight. Once the man got down the stairs, she asked, "Yo, football head, do you think we'll fit in?"

"I guess we'll find out."

The two made it to the high school with no less than half an hour to spare, having woken up earlier than the rest of the boarders to avoid any mishaps. Taking deep breaths before crossing the threshold, the building was exactly the same as it is in the present. They were able to locate the main office quickly, briefly explaining their situation and consequently waiting at the lobby until the bell rang, before being ushered into the counselor's office.

Helga fidgeted in the olive-green pleather, the material squeaking with each movement. Arnold drew a sidelong glance at her, trying to keep his own nervousness from showing, twirling his thumbs around eachother. He looked up at the clock, wondering why they were admitted into the office without the counselor present. Sighing, he wanted to rid the room of its unbearable silence.

"Helga... how do we go about this? I never had to register myself—"

"What do _you_ think, football head? —I haven't exactly been in a situation like this before **bucko**," the girl snapped back; anxiousness bringing out her old temper.

"Helga."

"_Sor-ry_."

The two sat up straight, hearing the door open and a rusty cough come along with it. Seating herself at the desk before them, a woman in her fifties rattled off the department's standard procedures of enrollment in a thick Boston accent, voice raspy from an apparent smoking break.

She pulled out the pen which was holding up her loose bun, dark gray hair falling around her half-moon glasses. Simultaneously, she slid the high-back office chair away from the desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a couple of multi-colored forms. "I need you two to get these ready by tomorrow, but for now—" pointing at a plain white sheet with her pen, "Just list equivalent classes from your old high school to keep in our records and ensure you have somewhere to go today, and give us any emergency contact information you have. As for this form," licking the pad of her index finger, she rifled through to a dull yellow paper, "since you two were wards of the state, we'll need the records from your foster home as well as copies of the termination paperwork."

Helga cleared her throat, causing the woman to look up at her. "How long will it take to get all this sorted out?"

"We don't work with many kids in your uh, delicate situation, so we might not be the most efficient when going about this. Depending on where you two come from, it could take upwards to three weeks?" She grinned at the blonds, "As long as you two don't get into any trouble and aren't actually juvenile delinquents or runaways, I wouldn't worry about the lack of paperwork as long as it gets processed eventually. Before graduation, of course."

The two teenagers nodded at the response, not quite aware how long they'll stay, but grateful for the time bought by the poorly organized education system of the early 70's. She pulled out another pen from her desk to have the two use.

Filling out their schedules and contact info, Arnold meekly questioned, "What's today's date?"

"October 20th..." Arnold just blinked at her, her own face contorting into slight confusion. "...1971."

"Thanks."

"No problem, kid." Eying the two suspiciously, she accepted their filled out forms and rushed out to make a copy for them to use for the day.

"Well, it's 1971." Helga sighed, "At least we have that bit of information out of the way."

"We're going to need some new clothes, huh?"

"I suppose so, football head." She reached into her jean pocket for the pair of wrinkled twenties she was sure were still shoved in there from yesterday.

Arnold too, reached for his wallet, not remembering how much he had before the incident. They held their palms out toward eachother with what they found.

"Okay, eighty-five dollars isn't so bad between the both of us... plus, we can ask for a little pocket change from helping out Grandma and Grandpa."

"We have to get some bags, a spiral, and maybe a folder; basic stuff. And eventually one or two outfits to cycle through... We don't want to stick out like sore thumbs for _too_ long, being the new kids gets pretty old."

"What have we gotten ourselves into, Helga?" He sighed, accepting the money she handed to him, keeping it all in his wallet.

Tiredly, Helga shrugged, slumping back into the chair. The counselor came back in with their copies, sending them off with a small expectant smile and a folder (each) of their forms.

They shared their first class together, like they did in the present —History. When they walked in, they were also greeted with a familiar face.

"Princi—uhm, Mr. Wartz?" Helga's head poked into the classroom, before opening the door completely to expose the two. Arnold raised an eyebrow at at their old-young Elementary School principal, though Helga remained deadpanned. She has seen this get-up before; a poncho, maracas, and a sombrero.

"Yes, yes. Are you two new? Come in! Introduce yourselves, you just came in as I was explaining the Mexico's cultural significance in America's history."

_Criminy, those clothes must be old._ "Sure, whatever. I'm Helga."

"And I'm Arnold."

A redhead in the back raised his hand, smirk plastered onto his features. "So, Helga. Are you single?"

A couple guys snickered at the comment, and when Helga's mouth opened in a sharp retort she was cut off by a surprisingly irate Arnold. "No, she _isn't_."

Still startled, she followed him silent and wide-eyed, to a couple of empty desks at the window; a chorus of "Ooh"s trailing behind. Neither of them really listened to the lecture, as entertaining as Wartz attempted to be, Helga's mind was twittering sonnets of adoration and slight anger at her _green-eyed demigod_, who himself, was caught off guard by his very own actions.

_Did I really just stand up __**for**__ Helga? Implying I was her boyfriend? Why? Oh... Oh God. She's probably thinking up ways to pulverize me after this; she doesn't need me to __**protect**__ her! What—why did I...? Stupid stupid stupid—_

"Arnold?" Helga waved a hand over his glazed over face, continuing when she finally got a response, "The bell just rang; uh, it looks like we have the same lunch, but after this I won't see you till then. So, good luck football head."

"...That's it?" He stood up, walking behind her as she headed out. She turned back at him, quirking a brow. The words flew out, his hands gesturing in distress. "No, 'I don't need a man to help me, _Arnoldo_' or, 'Watch it _next time_, bucko' or or or— _anything_?"

He flinched when she reached out to pat his cheek twice, her blue eyes looking up at him amused. "As long as you get the message, my job here is done." Dropping her hand, her expression turned serious. "Though, we still gotta talk about that."

He let out the breath he was unconsciously holding. As long as there was no bodily harm inflicted, he was fine with talking to her to the moon and back. _Once I figure out __**why**__ I did it._

"Hey Twiggy!"

Helga spun toward the direction of the voice, brows furrowed in annoyance. "Just because my hair—"

"Yeah yeah, but I never caught your name. How did you end up in my house last night anyway? My dad just started firing his whole _ethics_ spiel and never answered a damn question I had. Let me see your schedule?"

Helga handed the folded list while opening her mouth to respond, but Miri kept going. Stretching an arm around Helga's shoulders, and casting a wink at a distraught Arnold, she led Helga to her next class. "You see, my boyfriend came back early from college last night and —What's your name again?"

Boy, was our heroine getting pretty fed up by all these interruptions. But for the sake of her and Arnold's _extenuating_ circumstances, they _had_ to lay low, so she chewed the inner-side of her cheek to calm down. She even waited a breath before answering. "Helga. _You_ must be the infamous Miri." Helga's sarcasm shown through, unable to control it, but Miri smirked anyway, seeming to appreciate the character 'flaw'. Helga continued, "I was passing by, and your dad must've thought I was you through a window or something. Dragged me by the ear into your house, up the stairs, and shoved me into your room. Then he realized I _wasn't_ you, and proceeded to notice the tell-tale sign of your open window."

Shaking her head apologetically, she sighed, releasing the girl. "Yeah, sounds like my hot-head of a father. Sorry about that. Helga, right? —Nice name." She pushed her cat-eye frames up her nose, "I go by Miriam outside of the family, actually. Anyway, I told Rob (my boyfriend) about all that mess, and he suggested we treat you, _and possibly your cute guy we left behind over there_, to some pizza or something once class lets out; as a sort of consolation for the trauma you went through as being me for five minutes."

Only half-listening, Helga's eyes widened at the mention of Miri's complete name, as well as her boyfriend's; and thinking on her feet, knew _exactly_ why she was sent back there. _But what about Arnold?_ Shaking her head out of her reverie, she was met with the sight of an expectant Miriam.

"Uh, sounds good."

"Good. Well, here's your class, it looks like we have lunch and Advance Lit together afterwards, so I'll see you then!"

Helga meekly waved goodbye at the energetic girl. _That's...my mom?_

Meanwhile, Arnold was left to more or less, fend for himself. But before he was able to find the route to his next destination, a tall, yet mousy kid with thick tufts of light blond hair tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey... Arnold, correct? Uhm, my friend was that red-headed guy in class, and he'd like to apologize for what he did."

Arnold raised an eyebrow. He seemed to have been doing that a lot more frequently lately. His mind wandered off at the thought of muscular eyebrows until he realized the kid was still talking.

"I guess you're wondering why he'd send me instead of saying sorry himself, but he has sort of a 'tough persona' to hold up. I honestly don't understand it; he's threatening until he steps out of line, then he just avoids confrontation at all costs. He's a very... special person I suppose, but uh gosh I'm rambling, aren't I?" nervously, the kid laughed.

Arnold narrowed his eyes, train of thought completely veered toward figuring out why this person's mannerisms seemed so ...so... "What's your name?"

"Robert. Robert Simmons."

_Ah._

"Nice to meet you. I'm Arnold. Just tell your friend not to sweat it, I was just frustrated with getting to classes late and everything so—"

"Oh, I'll help you. May I see your schedule?"

"Uh, sure."

"Oh, how delightful, it looks like we have the next class together! My friend will be there too, so maybe then you guys can talk."

"Great."

As amused as Arnold was seeing these people he's known, he was a little more than weary about creating friendships with _anyone_ in this time-period. He knew nothing about time travel, but he didn't want to risk some sort of butterfly effect in his actions.

_Too late._

Simmons spent the entire walk to class talking Arnold's ear off, and then talking some more during free time.

Picking up on Arnold's mild annoyance, the red-head chuckled, "Forgive Robert here, even I had to get used to him sometime," that shut Simmons up for the meantime, an embarrassed look crossing his features. The red-head continued, "Anyway, you won't be hearing from him much longer, he'll be moving this weekend, right?" Simmons nodded. "Yeah, he's leavin me to become some great, new-age teacher or something," he stated, affectionately punching the kid in the arm. "Never come back, y'hear?"

"That's the plan!"

Arnold inwardly screamed at the irony of it all. And the coincidence that Simmons seemed to be this kid's Phoebe.

"Anyway, the name's Roland."

_And, our names are anagrams. What is the universe doing?_ They shook hands amiably, Roland leaning back into his chair.

"So yeah, as Sim-boy probably said for me, I'm sorry about earlier. She's quite the catch though. You're a lucky guy."

Instinctively, Arnold nodded.

"But you two are new? How are you new, together?"

"Long story short, we sort of eloped," Arnold feigned a guilty look as Roland made a sickened face.

Simmons though, being Simmons, piped up, "Oh, how romantic!"

It was getting harder and harder for Arnold to keep this act up. Especially the part about _being in love_ with Helga. _Why couldn't I have said we were just siblings? _He slapped a palm to his forehead before sinking onto the desk, unaware that his two new friends were watching him intently.

"Yo, you alright?"

Arnold mumbled into the desk, "Just having second thoughts. We're young and everything, y'know?"

"Yeah," Roland nodded, "Sounds pretty stupid of you guys, but also pretty bold. You're a bold kid Arnold, a bold kid."

Unbeknownst to either Simmons or Roland, Arnold's every fiber seemed to tense up at the déjà vu, feeling queasy from all the parallels. _Am I having time-space sickness?_

Our time-traveling duo made it to lunch in one piece though, Helga having been sought out by Miriam, was already in line when Arnold scanned the cafeteria for her. Catching sight of the pixie-cut, he apologetically yanked Helga out of the line by the hand. Once they came back into the hallway, he stood before her, slumping and dropping his head on her shoulder in defeat.

Helga stiffened at the contact, never ready for her beloved's touches, but she managed to speak in spite of poetry she wanted to proclaim. "You okay?"

"Helga, _I don't know why we're here_. I just met Simmons and he seems to want to be friends with me, but his life seems fine, and —and the kid that hit on you just said something Gerald would say and—"

"Shh, you're over reacting football head." She patted his back awkwardly, trying hard not to notice the stares they were starting to receive. "_I_ know why we're here," quickly omitting her doubts of Arnold's purpose, she mentally included him in her goal. Arnold's head picked up at the news, his green eyes once again hopeful. Helga continued, "Miri is Miriam. Her boyfriend, Robert —Big Bob, came into town early from college and because of the mishap last night, they want to take us out for pizza 'or something'."

Nodding his head slowly, Arnold sighed in relief, finally having at least some sense of reason. He chuckled, "So... like a double date?"

Despite Helga's apparent blush, she feigned annoyance and scowled at her prince. "Yeah, a double date. Now let's go eat; I'm starving."

She turned to walk back in, but without a second thought, Arnold looped her free arm around his elbow and proceeded to open the large cafeteria door _for_ her.

* * *

**A/N:** Sheesh Arnold, it _can't_ just be a Freudian-slip whenever you _keep_ saying you're going out with Helga; that's not how it works!

*_Twiggy:_ A well-renowned American model from 1966, who popularized the pixie-cut hairstyle.

**_Kimba the White Lion:_ An anime series which premiered from 1966-1967. (It's only speculation that this is grandma's reasoning behind Arnold's peculiar nickname).

Until the next chapter, leave me some reviews for motivation!


	3. Doi

**Disclaimer / A/N : **All characters belong to Craig Bartlett / Viacom / etc. _The Cask of Amontillado_ - Edgar Allan Poe. _Any pop-culture **& Hey Arnold universe** references have been cross-checked with Wikipedia/**Wikia** and marked with an asterisk (*)._ Teen for language & situations.

I'm quite happy with this chapter. Hope you will be too! And please, review!

* * *

She turned to walk back in, but without a second thought, Arnold looped her free arm around his elbow and proceeded to open the large cafeteria door _for_ her.

Helga wasn't sure how to react to this, knowing it was just to keep up appearances; but she was at a loss of words anyway. Miri waved the couple over once they got their trays, and started pointing out the various social groups and their positions in the cafeteria.

"Over by the doors, you have the theater kids. If you want some ganja, they'll deliver for a hefty sum." Nodding toward the cashiers she continued, "Jocks, obviously. Usually I sit there, being a cheerleader and all, but there isn't enough space for all three of us. There; are the Asians. They sort of clump together, regardless of whether they're the nerdy type or not—" Helga amusingly noted a guy that looked like Phoebe's dad doing homework, "—they also include the geeks (video game, roleplay, comic books, et cetera). Over by the windows, you've got the foreign exchange students. One of them is from Honduras*; and I only point him out because he'll be in our Lit class and is kind of peculiar because he only writes about 'Green Eyes'. So," turning to Arnold, (who was sitting stiffly at the reference) Miri smiled charmingly. "You should stay away from him. He might take your eyes away."

Helga's eyebrows raised at her mother's antics. _Is... is she flirting with Arnold?_ Her eyes shifted between the two of them, Arnold himself oblivious because he was intently staring at the Honduran. Helga shrugged, half-heartedly listening to Miri's rants on the latest gossip, the latter girl discreetly pulling out a bejeweled flask to pour into her home-packed orange juice. At that action, Helga held up a hand to push her mother's wrist down, shaking her head slowly.

Offended, Miri shoved the flask back into her inner jacket pocket, eyes flickering in anger toward our heroine. Arnold, catching sight of the movement, finally started paying attention to the situation at hand. Miri spoke, voice low and disgruntled.

"Look kid, we just met. Don't be such a nark**. Also, I don't think you have the right to show me how to live my life."

"You're right." Helga whispered back, "But you're also wrong in what you're doing. And you know it. Otherwise you wouldn't be so defensive about it."

"_Rob_ says it's fine." Helga mentally cursed at her father. "Helps keep the edge off. I'm not this peppy naturally, you know."

"How would you know if you don't try and function without it?"

"Look; you saw what I go through at home. That was just _five minutes_."

Helga's hands came up in resignation, physically backing off slightly. "Fine. Fine. Whatever, Miriam."

Arnold wasn't fully aware of what just unfolded, but an overwhelming sense of pride went through him, seeing Helga stand up for something so fiercely. He grinned softly at her, as she sighed after the exchange; Miri visibly ruffled, left to catch up with her jock friends.

Arnold turned to Helga, resting a hand gently on hers. Unbeknownst to him, Helga's entire arm felt heated from the contact, which momentarily made her forget seeing the root of her mother's addiction taking ahold of Miriam.

"That was a good thing you did."

"...Thanks."

He shifted his head to meet her downward gaze, smiling slightly; then changing his expression to something questioning. "Hey, so that Honduran kid?"

"Yeah... He'll be in my Lit class."

"Yeah. I think... I think he could be a key to my parents' disappearance. If not maybe shed a little more light on the people whom my parents help..."

She nodded, knowing what he wanted to ask. "I'll take note of anything he says. I don't want to jump him today, but I'll somehow get you two to talk if I can."

"Thanks."

"No problem, hair boy."

They broke eye contact, thinking about their own separate situations, his hand still sitting comfortably atop hers on the bench between them. When the bell rang for the next period, he encased her in a hug.

"I'm glad you're here with me."

She could have cried. Happily, too. _Could have_. But she's a Pataki, so she didn't. Instead, she numbly returned the gesture, her response coming out softer than expected.

"Me too, Arnold."

Walking to where she assumed English class was, she felt a gentle hand pull her shoulder to face whoever was behind her.

Miri grumbled, avoiding eye contact. "Sorry. For blowing up on you like that. You were only looking out for me. You really don't need to, though."

Helga sighed, idly picking at the corner of the folder she was holding. "Nah, don't sweat it. I understand. I just hope you don't end up depending on it or something."

"Honestly, I don't know. But enough about this heavy stuff, let's head to class." Miri brightened up, linking elbows with the girl.

Apparently, an assignment was due for the rest of the class that day, so Helga made sure to keep an eye on the Honduran kid. He wasn't very interesting; a slight frame, lanky and a bit jumpy. _Kinda like Sid._ His dark mess of hair fell before his eyes, causing him to occasionally twitch his head like a teen heart-throb.

Although the story being analyzed that period was Egar Allan Poe's _The Cask of Amontillado_, (something she found thrillingly dark and altogether brilliant,) she already critically read the piece, backwards and forwards; through and through. There weren't any student readings during that period either, so she just remained bored out of her mind, staring at the ticking clock above the chalkboard._ At least this is the last period..._

"Ah. Helga, was it? Please read these next few lines."

"_It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the carnival season, that I encountered my friend. He accosted me with excessive warmth, for he had been drinking much. The man wore motley. He had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress and his head was surmounted by the conical cap and bells. I was so pleased to see him, that I thought I should never have done wringing his hand. _

_I said to him — "My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking to-day! But I have received a pipe of what passes for Amontillado, and I have my doubts." _

_"How?" said he, "Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible ? And in the middle of the carnival?"_ "

"Great, you can stop there. Now students, he was greeted by Fortunato with 'excessive warmth' why so?"

Helga slumped back into her seat, letting the teacher's voice droll on until the bell rang.

When Arnold met her outside of the classroom though, that's when something shifted. The kid, who was blatantly staring at Arnold, bumped into Helga, completely ignorant of her presence. Arnold made sure to steady her first, before meeting the gaze of the shorter teen. Honduras stopped in his tracks, slowly reaching up toward Arnold's chest, as Arnold himself backed away sharply at the approach. This seemed to have shaken the kid out of his stupor. Apologizing, Honduras beat a hasty retreat.

"Criminy, if that wasn't the definition of awkward, I don't know _what_ is."

She turned to Arnold once the kid disappeared into the crowd, finding the blond pressing the spot of his chest which Honduras reached out to. Helga waved a hand in front of his face for the second time that day.

"S-sorry. He uh, he startled me, is all. Did he do anything during English?"

"Nope. That was the most out of the norm I've seen from him."

Miri passed by, late from coming out of the classroom having talked with the teacher about something. She linked elbows once again with Helga, drawing a grumble from Miri's victim, causing Arnold to chuckle. Meeting Helga's annoyed gaze, he shrugged, following the two out of the school.

And there he was.

Big Bob in all his 20 year old glory. Helga nearly scoffed at the scene. _**Of course**__ he'd still wear his old, beat up letterman jacket and sunglasses; __**of course**__ he'd be leaning on a red convertible, _(drop-top up due to the chill),_ and __**of course**__ Miriam would enthusiastically run toward him, lovesick as all hell._

Her eyes flickered toward the football head next to her. He was watching with a small grin, turning his head to Helga.

"They look so happy."

"Yeah yeah." She waved her hand dismissively. Blushing slightly, she pulled Arnold by the wrist toward the two currently lip-locked young adults. Cringing, Helga used her other hand to smack the hood of the car, surprising Miriam and Bob.

She placed her hands on her hips. "We going to get some grub or what."

Big Bob smirked. "Nice friend you got here, Miri."

"Yeah, she's a firecracker," Miriam giggled.

The four piled into the car, Arnold and Helga at the back. Miriam's nonstop recollection of the day's main events kept Bob's attention from their two extra passengers, letting the blonds take a breather for the time being.

The red convertible pulled up to a small burger joint, the area littered with teenagers. At school, the two were focused on keeping their act together, so when they stepped out of the vehicle and surveyed the general populace, they were surprised to see the the Venn diagram of their generations. Because Arnold and Helga were clad in timeless clothing (plaid shirt and hoodie respectively), they _did_ fit in, to an extent. Other, more iconic pieces of clothing were experienced in a wider variety now, giving the two of them a bit of culture shock.

Keeping oddly quiet until they got to their booth, Bob side-eyed the two blonds, coughing to catch their attention.

"So, Miri's briefed me about you two. Apparently the gossip is that you guys 'eloped'?"

Arnold nonchalantly shrugged at the accusation, it was the 'truth' after all. "Yeah, basically. Wards of the state, we got an ultimatum."

The two guys continued to talk about pointless things, as Miriam enthusiastically urged Helga to accompany her to the bathroom. Helga leaned on the sink counter as Miriam applied some lip gloss. "You know, that's so romantic! I never pinned you for the sentimental type."

Helga rolled her eyes slightly, "Yeah well, looks can deceive."

"Speaking of romantic notions, I think Rob's finally going to ask me to go steady with him during the Cheese Festival this weekend." Miri smiled brightly at her new friend, "I mean it's no _elopement_, but you know." Finally getting a good look at Helga, her mouth drew to a thin line. "Do me a solid** though, tell me you're not planning on wearing _that_ to the festival."

Helga straightened up from the scrutiny, _Is she part Wellington-Lloyd too?_ She crossed her arms defensively. "And what if I am? I don't have any—"

"There isn't any class tomorrow, Staff Day or whatever, so you're coming over and borrowing an outfit from me. Who knows? If it's something I don't wear anymore, you can keep it." Miriam made her way toward the bathroom door, Helga following.

"Uh, thanks?"

When they got to the table, Helga already knew what Bob was saying. Judging by the dramatic hand gestures, excited eyes, and Arnold's tell-tale tensely awkward shifting—

"That's right, kid! Beepers! People don't give a damn about them now, but they will. _Oh, they will._ I have the whole thing planned out!"

_Yep._

Miriam slipped into the bench by Bob, nudging him to quiet down. "Rob, I don't think Arnold here really wants to hear about your business scheme. Plus, what if he takes it for himself?" Miriam smirked mischievously, Arnold's hands flying up in denial at the notion.

Helga cleared her throat to draw Arnold's attention when the food was handed to them, keeping her voice pointedly low. "So uh, Miriam says the Cheese Festival is this weekend, and _my attire doesn't suit the occasion_." She made sure to heavily imply his own wardrobe change, somehow. Arnold nodded to keep the suggestion filed at the back of his mind.

There wasn't much verbal acting that needed to be done, food was there so their mouths were mostly busy; and whatever time they had between bites, Miriam was accosted by some classmate or another. The only downside to the whole thing was that now, the previously unnamed new couple of Hillwood High got to briefly meet 'almost everyone worth meeting' (as Miriam put it) throughout the dinner.

_Great, just great._

Just as Arnold was about to feel overwhelmed again, he instinctively reached for Helga's free hand while the two couples were walking back to the car. He used his other hand to rub the inner corners of his eyes, feeling a dull throbbing from the knowledge that _now everyone knew them_.

_Our faces, our names..._

Glancing quickly at Arnold, trying to find a hint at any reasoning for the action, Helga saw his expression and knew. She was starting to get bogged down by the weight of it all as well. But the day was almost over.

_At least we have that for some solace._

Getting dropped off at the boarding house, Phil and Gertie wasted no time enlisting them on the rest of the chores that needed to be done. They missed the boarding house dinner, so food preparations and subsequent dishes were already finished, and the boarders all retreated to their own rooms. Arnold went to help Grandpa, Helga to Gertie.

The two women surveyed the foyer, older one already sprucing one thing or another. She clucked her tongue. "Oh Eleanor, I can't believe I let these bookshelves get so _dusty_! Where _does_ all this dust come from? More importantly, where do all these books come from? Lord knows none of us reads this often."

Helga shrugged, tentatively wiping down a desk at the corner. "Maybe that's why there's dust. _Because_ no one reads them anymore, Gertie." She then moved toward the bookshelf, lovingly flipping through some pages of one of the novels. "Know what? I'll read them while I'm here."

"I'll tackle them with you, maybe we'll meet in the middle." Gertie winked.

Meanwhile, Arnold and his grandpa were hauling some of the firewood to the cement for the impending cold front. "So, Arnold; how was your first day of class? I'm assuming things went well enough. You two were gone for our first dinner! Gertie and I were excited to introduce you guys to the rest of the boarders, you know."

"Sorry uh, Phil." Arnold gulped slightly, hoping he won't slip up. "It went well, we were just invited to burgers by someone at school because of a mishap between her and Helga last night. Something like what we went through."

They made small talk, mostly the elder couple reminiscing about old days, keeping the two teenagers from leaking out any specific details of their futuristic lives. At one point, Arnold's grandparents left the two blonds to do separate chores in the kitchen.

Arnold was replacing the screws of the cupboards above them, whereas Helga was fiercely wiping away at the grout between the tiles of the floor. She was enjoying the quality time with his family. _Of course, my prince tops; but these two are pretty great in their own right._

She exhaled happily, "So, your snot-nosed dad said his older brother's coming home today. Arnie's dad?"

"Nah," Arnold replied offhandedly, mind on the handiwork of the moment. "Arnie's from my mom's side of the family.* I never really noticed it, but my grandparents didn't talk about my dad or their other kids (if they had any) unless I brought it up. Maybe they just wanted me to focus on who's in my life, rather than who isn't. I don't know."

A heavy silence sat between them, until Arnold spoke again to lighten the mood.

"Hey Helga?"

"Yeah?"

"Who's Twiggy?"

She chuckled, "It's this model from the sixties with this haircut."

"Ah..." He let her answer hang there for a second, before speaking again. "So, why _did_ you cut your hair? I'm so used to it being all these crazy colors."

She grinned, not meeting his gaze. "Well. I originally started coloring my hair because _Olga_ made me tweeze my brow." She stopped her task to point at the offending change (although it's been years). Continuing with her knuckles to her hips, "It was only a plus that it totally freaked out Bob and Miriam. This time isn't much different. For her wedding, she not so much as _begged_ me, but more like _discreetly forced_ me to dye my hair back to its natural blond. After the ceremony though, I _un_ceremoniously cut it all off; then got it corrected by a random hair salon. Come to think of it, Bob and Miriam _still_ haven't seen it. _Wait till they getta loada this._" She rubbed her palms together, a wicked smile gracing her lips.

Arnold let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. "Well, I don't care what you do to your hair; somehow it always works for you. I like that." He turned back to the cupboards, as Helga was left to blush in pseudo-privacy.

_Oh, my earthly Adonis; you can not fathom the joy in which you can elicit from my soul with your poignancy and your simplicity..._

Her hand clutched the locket beneath her clothes, the other hand resuming its menial work. She sighed, the sound escaping once again into the air, where Arnold himself turned his head slightly to catch it.

Before he was able to ask though, he was called to the dining room by his Grandma.

"Arnold," she greeted with a smile. Wiping her hands on her apron, she picked up a tray of food and handed it to him. "This is Mr. Smith's late dinner. Normally, Phil or I take the time to put it up there, but Phil needs help with the remainder of the files you helped out with earlier. Anyway, just knock and place it in front of his door. You can say hi if you want to, he doesn't bite."

Of course, Arnold knew all this already, having remembered a few foggy memories from his childhood regarding the same situation. "Sure."

Doing all that was instructed, he did decide to say hi. _After all, I was what, nine last time I did this? My voice would be unrecognizable when I'm a kid to him again. ...Wow this is so weird._

"Mr. Smith? Here's your dinner." He peeked at the tiny camera by the door. Suddenly, a polaroid-printing noise came from beneath the camera. Pulling out the piece of paper, Arnold was intrigued.

"You are not Phil nor Gertie. State your name."

Again, Arnold looked into the camera, voice tinged with uncertainty. "Arnold?"

The door opened.

Simultaneously, the doorbell downstairs rang.

* * *

**A/N:** I find it funny that Miriam is drawn to personalities like Helga and Big Bob. If you want the time-frame, Oct 20th 1971 was a Wednesday. Keep the reviews coming! They inspire me to keep going.

*_Honduras_: this country was never specifically stated, though the Wikia speculates it so. I chose this location because the map Arnold finds at the back of his dad's journal highlights a region close to _Rio Claro_ (Clear River), and one with the same name is located in Honduras.

_*Arnie/Arnold's Family:_ Yes, Arnie is Arnold's maternal cousin; hence the similar names. (Named after their shared grandfather). As for Phil and Gertie's number of children, it has been hinted throughout the series that they've had more than one.

**_Nark_: Though I'm sure you could use context clues, for clarification it's slang for a squeal, rat; mostly for good.

**_Do me a solid_: (Slang) - Do me a favor.


	4. Jimdandy

**Disclaimer / A/N : **All characters belong to Craig Bartlett / Viacom / etc. _Any pop-culture **& Hey Arnold universe** references have been cross-checked with Wikipedia/**Wikia** and marked with an asterisk (*)._ Teen for language & situations.

Happy Labor Day weekend to my American readers!

* * *

The door opened.

Simultaneously, the doorbell downstairs rang.

...

Already passing by the front door to get upstairs, Helga decided to open it as Miles flew by in a blur of blond hair and army-green.

"Hey, Beansprout."

Suddenly, Helga caught eyes with the deepest green she's ever seen; and stood there stunned for a moment before the brunette raised an eyebrow, his own cordial smile faltering a bit.

"Uh, hi?"

Before Helga could respond, Arnold's grandparents made their way into the entrance hallway, allowing the flustered blond make a getaway before things got complicated.

"Oh wait, Eleanor!" Gertie raised her arm to stop the girl from escaping.

"Eleanor?" The brunette inquired.

Phil continued for Gertie, as Helga gripped the railing slightly from ascending the first step. "This is our oldest son, Jim. Named after—"

"His childhood friend, Jimmy Kafka. Nice meeting you, Eleanor." Again, that smile; he stepped forward extending his hand.

"Actually, the name's Helga." She accepted his hand shyly. (Helga, shy?)

Jimmy chuckled, "That's my mom for ya."

There were so many questions swimming around our heroine's head when her hand dropped limply back to her side. She's never seen this guy, yet she felt like this was _...Arnold? He just seems so... nice. And not polite-nice; genuine nice. I was expecting a detached and calculating older sibling; someone who didn't __**want**__ to be at the boarding house voluntarily anymore; which would explain his lack of visits... But now..._

He was sun-kissed and tall, and squirmed uncomfortably under Helga's blank stare, while Phil and Gertie talked on excitedly, asking their own questions about his apparent trip abroad. Finally following his family and giving Helga a polite departing nod, Helga was left to head upstairs as previously planned.

Arnold was no where in sight, but she shrugged off her worry to work on the forms given to them by the counselor earlier that day.

The door opened in front of Arnold when the downstairs doorbell rang. He fought the urge to go answer it, and was greeted by a blinding white light. His face scrunched up in response, along with one of his hands flying up to create a makeshift visor. He walked in cautiously, his eyes adjusting to this Hospital-white, perfectly square room. The only furniture within it was a large oak desk and the backside of a tall leather chair facing him. The desk itself was bare, save for a plaque stating this was indeed Mr. Smith.

"Arnold. Arnold how old are you?" The voice was deep, though one Arnold would not be able to pinpoint if needed.

"Eighteen."

"Are you traveling alone?"

He gulped, trying hard not to think the worst about his situation. "...No."

"Good. Things are going as planned, I see." The leather chair still refused to swivel around and face Arnold.

"Excuse me?"

"Just assist your companion for now, and keep away from the Honduran in your learning establishment."

"But—"

"—He provides you with nothing useful, Arnold. He may even endanger this entire mission."

"Mission?"

"Just don't lose that necklace."

Arnold grabbed the emblem beneath his clothing, instinctively; contorting his wide-eyed look into something more suspicious.

"I'm here to help, not harm. I'll summon you in once your companion has gone through with his or her own business."

"Her. ...My 'companion' is a her." Arnold didn't know exactly what it was that compelled him to correct the faceless man, but he did it anyway.

"Very well then. Take care of 'her'. She is a necessity for the next step. You will need an ally, Arnold. I won't be available when you get back to your world."

Suddenly, the floor beneath Arnold slid open, knocking his balance off slightly. But by the grace of God, he was able to keep one foot on the sliding panel; hopping off quickly onto the remaining floor tiles around him before it disappeared. He looked down into the hole where he could have fallen, Mr. Smith remaining silent.

It was a simple metal shoot. Like any laundry shoot he's seen; or even a vent shaft.

Mr. Smith spoke. "That leads to the basement. No one must know you were in here. There is a furnace down there that needs repair. Do so for five minutes or until you finish the task (whichever you prefer), then use it as an alibi as you go about the rest of your day. Goodbye, Arnold."

"Uh. Thank you?" He had so many questions, but was unable to verbalize _any_ of them.

He looked down the shoot once again before obediently hopping into the opening. A toolbox was already located by the furnace, and armed with prior knowledge with how the furnace works, Arnold repaired it back to order.

The blond started hearing the floor above him squeak with movement, excited voices trailing behind. _My uncle's home..._ Feeling like he spent enough time down in the basement, Arnold decided to take a casual look-see at who was causing all the commotion; and more importantly, what kind of person his uncle would be to never visit his own parents once he became an adult. Arnold was ready to treat this guy with the utmost cold civility. (Because Arnold just isn't a mean guy.)

He _casually_ walked by the newly spic and span foyer, hoping that someone was going to call out to him and introduce him to his uncle. As if hearing Arnold's silent plea, Miles looked up from sitting atop Jimmy's shoulders and enthusiastically yelled, "Arnold! Meet my brother!"

The brunette young man turned to greet Arnold, hand already outstretched, and a large smile placed on his face. Arnold couldn't help but return the sincerity, shaking the slightly taller guy's hand and grinning broadly.

"Hi, I'm Jim."

Grandpa interrupted before Arnold could reply. "He's named after my best friend; Jimmy Kafka!"

Jimmy rolled his eyes, sighing slightly at his father's repetitiveness. "Dad, you really don't have to do this every time. Poor Helga just seemed confused." Arnold's ears perked up at the mention of his friend, when Jim turned his attention back to him. "What's your name again? I know Miles just said it but—"

"Uh, Arnold. And don't worry about your dad's stories, I think they're pretty neat."

Jimmy gave Arnold a small smile of appreciation before Gertie spoke up. "Jimmy just came back from a semester abroad! Tell him where you went."

"Mom, really? I think he'd like to go back to his girlfriend or something."

Arnold blushed slightly, Jim was obviously filled in during the short time span between Helga's introduction and Arnold's. "I could spare a few minutes listening. I'm sure Helga wouldn't mind."

"Oh, alright. I'm studying Anthropology-centered Journalism in college, and they recommended I go to Central America for a bit to study an elusive tribe there, called the Green-Eyed People."

The family each found somewhere to sit in the foyer by now, Arnold's own eyes widening at this information. "W-What did you learn?"

"Well, I spent most of the semester trying to get them to trust me— offering them food or merely trailing their movement at a good enough distance that they didn't perceive me as a threat. During a horrible hurricane though, I found that they provided me shelter during the storm, though disappeared shortly after when I wanted to thank them. ...I've only seen glimpses; no wonder people urged me to attempt to study them. I kept saying my name though, loudly when I knew they were present; so hopefully they will recognize me next time I visit."

"You're planning to go again?"

"Of course! I made such headway with them, my time there would have been a waste otherwise."

Then everyone heard a shriek upstairs. Arnold stood up, bolting for Helga as the rest followed hurriedly.

Heroically, the blond burst through the door, finding Helga tiptoeing on the bed and struggling to press herself into the wall. She pointed in horror to the other side of the room, where an average sized rat was nibbling on one of their forms from school. Arnold's face softened at Helga G. Pataki's only weakness, (that he knew of) and stretched out his arm to lure the girl off the bed. Instead, she jumped into his reflexively open arms and dug her face into the crook of his neck. The sudden weight may have toppled someone else over, but not Arnold. He chuckled slightly at the trembling girl before looking back at his spectator family who grinned softly at the scene.

Phil sighed, shaking his head. He couldn't help but laugh at the poor girl as he scared the rodent away. Calming down a bit, (after Helga, embarrassed by the attention, stepped down from Arnold's grip); Phil started talking. "Sorry for the rat problem, you two. I'll get Arnold to assist me in laying around more traps tomorrow, since they'll start coming in from the cold." The other three dispersed to help settle Jim and shoo the other boarders away. "Also, since Jimmy's back; I didn't realize he would be using the attic during his stay, so I'll bring the cot back in here tonight."

And so he did. For a while, Arnold and Helga spent time filling out the forms, sitting cross-legged on the bed together, trying hard to lie realistically. They had no clue where their fictional foster home should be located, until Arnold had an 'a-ha' moment.

"23 Elm St. Bayport New Jersey, 08234.*"

Helga scribbled down the address as she listened, but didn't know where it came from. "What?"

"Gerald and I used to be really into the Purdy Boys* novel series when we were kids; and even once looked up where their address was."

Helga eyed him incredulously. "Right."

The rest of the forms went without a hitch; Helga having a fleeting, albeit completely crazy thought that maybe they should switch last names. _For the sake of propriety, of course._ —_Oh man, then it'd be like I was married to him... Helga Shortman._ Before writing it though, Helga sheepishly looked over to Arnold's page where he already wrote his own name in the blank.

She sighed quietly, knowing that maybe switching their names would actually have been a better option, considering Arnold would be more around the Shortmans, whereas Helga befriended Miri. But it was a little too late.

Helga crinkled her brows."Hey, Arnold?"

"Yeah?" he responded, without looking up from the papers.

"What do you think about Jimmy."

"I was surprised. He doesn't seem like the type of guy to just up and leave his parents behind."

"I got that feeling too... In fact," she hesitated but went on anyway, "I had the strongest feeling that he _was _**you**."

"_Was_ me?"

"Is you. Whatever. Just, the same uh... aura?"

Arnold thought about the statement. "You mean like, I'm his reincarnation?"

The question hung in the air, when Helga finally answered, knowing almost _nothing_ about Buddhism. "I mean. I guess. But wouldn't that mean he would have died before you were born?"

This time, Arnold still hasn't looked up, but shifted his eyes toward the sheets of the bed. "Yeah. But you know, that would kind of explain his absence..."

"Let's stop talking about this weird time-shit. So much has been going on..."

Arnold nodded, taking both their folders and placing them onto a bedside table. He opened his mouth, wanting to tell Helga about the incident with Mr. Smith, but decided against it until he was able to sift through the implications of the meeting, himself.

After their bedtime preparations, Arnold once again gave her his over-shirt which she quietly accepted, and he stepped over to the cot after turning off the light. Tentatively, Arnold placed a hand on it for balance, but felt the metal shift under his touch. Drawing back his hand quickly, the makeshift bed snapped shut and fell over with a deafening clang; akin to a bear trap. The entire thing then promptly fell apart, screws heard rolling on the floor. Him and Helga made wide-eyed eye contact in the dark, as Arnold gulped at his unsafe sleeping apparatus. Helga sighed gruffly in response, feigning complete unwillingness as she scooted over to the farther side of the bed, pulling the covers open for him.

His face lit up in appreciation, slipping into his own designated corner of the bed. He fell asleep almost instantly, as Helga laid stiffly through the night. She spent her time squeezing her eyes shut, or looking at the moon; or just plain trying to keep her mind clear. But when she checked the clock that was provided for them, she became frustrated. _It's already two in the Goddamn morning._ Nothing has happened between the two of them since Arnold fell asleep, but Helga's entire body was buzzing with the knowledge that her _Orzo-shaped Prometheus_ was sleeping, _nay, __**dreaming**_; not even one foot away from her. And then he moved.

The furnace, having only been fixed temporarily, gave out a while ago; letting the autumn's cold seep into their bare room. So, in Arnold's subconscious, he needed to stay warm. And warmth came in the form of a wide-awake Helga.

She didn't know it was possible to tense up even more, especially after feeling him shift closer to her. No, he didn't touch her; but he positioned himself in his sleep so he was curled on his side, candy cane-shaped; his upper body above her head (which was tucked in close to the edge of the sheets), his left arm used as a second pillow, and the rest of his body laid straight.

Helga gulped. _He's too close. He smells so good_. _Criminy_. Eventually though, the warmth coupled with the passing time, lulled her into a deep sleep.

Arnold woke up first that morning, finding his sight obstructed by a familiar swatch of blond hair. He grinned slightly, looking around, until his face dropped realizing that _he_ was the one to cross the invisible line last night. _I had the purest of intentions before sleeping, _he reasoned_._ But apparently, something changed while he dreamt. Arnold wriggled his hands and feet, trying to locate them, and came across another complication. Helga and him were completely entangled with one another.

With all his movement, Helga started her own long struggle to consciousness, scrunching her face and moving closer to him; unknowingly nuzzling her face deeper into Arnold's chest. Mentally, the boy shrugged. He was a teenage guy, after all. _Might as well enjoy the moment, right? _So when her head snapped up, alert and shocked, he pretended he was still asleep, and playfully pulled her in closer. She squeaked in response, skittering out of the bed and running for the door. He decided then, to finally 'wake up' and caught her in the act of sneaking out.

"Helga."

She stopped, turning her head slowly to the boy; nervous smile plastered in her face.

"Relax." He chuckled, but then sighed in seriousness as he raked a hand through his bed-head. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I guess it was pretty cold last night, huh?"

Helga made no noise as she nodded slowly, proceeding to leave the room. Little did he know, she didn't leave his side out of shock, but out of pure-uncontainable joy. She wanted to find a secluded spot to stream her thoughts aloud, maybe into her phone for later writing; she wanted to jump and twirl and keep the entire sequence frozen in her long-term memory. But once she made it to the hallway though, and rounded the corner to the community bathroom, she collided with someone.

"Oh, morning Helga!" Jimmy said brightly.

He stood up first, holding his hand out for her to take. Doing so, he pulled her up effortlessly, though a questioning look crossed his features.

She combed her fingers through her hair nervously, afraid she looked 'off' or something. "What?"

The boy smirked. "Nice shirt."

She quickly looked down in response, rediscovering the fact that she still had on Arnold's button-up. _Shit._ Before she was able to plead her case though, Jimmy was already making his way downstairs, leaving the pixie-cut blond to blush alone.

Breakfast went well, Miles disappearing for the rest of the day with his older brother; and the time-traveling couple meeting the rest of the boarders, getting their assignments for the day from them and Arnold's grandparents. Helga though, avoiding any confrontation with Arnold, kept an obviously cold shoulder toward him the entire time. Arnold reverted to his childhood self, extremely annoyed, but chose to ignore her.

Grandpa tucked a pencil behind his ear as he rattled off chores. "After laying out some rat traps, and Helga —Help Gertie with the dishes; there are a couple more chores for the rest of the boarders that I volunteered you two for. Then you two will be free the rest of the time. The man in the tracksuit was Vincenso, who goes by Vinny. His wife Carmela, is out of town this week, so he needs some help restocking groceries while at work." He looked at Helga, who nodded. "Gail is that tall, pale lady. She can't lift up her furniture to vacuum under them. Arnold, just let me know when you're available to do that." Arnold nodded as well. "Vada and Tai are a newlywed couple who just moved in a week before you two, and would like to be taken to the pier. This isn't much of a chore, but more like an invitation from Pookie, Vada, Tai, and I to join us this evening."

Arnold looked over at Helga, who averted her eyes and shrugged. Arnold answered, "Yeah. We'll go."

So the chores list wasn't too long, and most of it was on Arnold, which gave Helga a chance to finally head toward her homestead after lunch, once she dropped off Vinny's groceries.

She gave Arnold a parting nod, before stepping outside. "Don't forget to find something to wear for the Cheese Festival, football-head."

Hearing him respond with a grunt, Helga closed the door.

Trotting up her stoop, she rang the doorbell. Immediately, Miri opened it and yanked her inside. Suddenly, the blond pulled Helga down to the floor, ducking with her when a plate came flying out of no where and smashed into the door; which mere seconds before, would have been Helga's head.

A woman's yelling was heard in the kitchen, as Miri's father; (gray messy hair and all) leapt over the two girls and ran for safe haven outside of the house.

"Stay out there for the day, you rat! In the street where you belong!"

Miri shook her head, slowly rising and waving Helga to follow her up the stairs.

She kept her voice low, glaring at nothing in particular. "You know when you're young and you think your parents were soul mates?"

Helga nodded, though she never really felt that way.

Miri continued, "Yeah well, I was wrong. And now that I've 'grown up' all hell broke loose, and I'm just left here to rot."

Helga definitely knew _that_ feeling.

A whole bunch of clothes were already splayed out about the frilly room, set into outfits just for Helga to try on. Inwardly, the girl grimaced; though attempted to smile at her eager friend. Her mom though, made her way to her bookshelf and pulled out some glued-together, binder spines. The binders themselves were hollowed out, allowing the girl to pull out a few hidden light beers.

_Looks like I haven't been the only one hiding things in this room_. Helga sighed, shaking her head from the offer.

Miri continued, while handing Helga a pair of hangers. "You'd think, that with all the money we have, we could finally worry about the stability of other things. Like their marriage. Or raising their kid."

Helga wanted to punch her mom in the face. Miri was saying the exact things Helga had to live through on a daily basis. _For fuck's sake, if she's relating to me so well, why didn't she change anything when I came along?_

Miri finally looked over at her silently seething friend. "Fine. I won't drink today. But downstairs is a war zone, so don't blame me if I slip on this."

"Whatever."

Helga made her way into the bathroom, Miriam setting up some music to play as she played dress up with her very own doll.

And what a doll she was. Helga was never the type to have overly-feminine clothing; but liked indulging once in a while, and found she looked good in some of Miri's clothes. Miriam even offered to paint her nails and loan some accessories with whatever outfit she decided on. It was as if the two of them were normal teenagers for the time being, sipping on _Yahoo_ sodas, listening to _The Carpenters**_, and laughing at some of Miri's odd choices in fashion.

"Hey! I only got that because I thought I'd grow into it or something."

"Yeah well I look like Big Bird** in this." Helga raised her arms up, displaying the looseness of the fringed out yellow suede, Native American-esque jacket.

Miri rolled with laughter on her bed. "Y-You watch Sesame Street in the afternoons, too?" She calmed down, rolling on her belly and looking up at Helga. "So, tell me about _Arnold_."

Helga froze, though glad that Sesame Street existed already, she wasn't sure she wanted to talk about the football head. "Uh." She cleared her throat, "What's there to know?"

"I don't know. Just curious. Rob is all about his big business scheme, he's romantic when he wants to be, and my parents absolutely _hate_ him. Mostly because he doesn't come from a 'good name', like I do." Miriam rolled her eyes as she started filing her nails.

"Well, we grew up together." She nodded, _Yeah, that's it._

"And...?"

"And he's just always had a special place." Helga gulped, _really_ not wanting to share a lot about this to her.

"Bo-ring. How was it living in a foster home, though? Didn't that mean you had to rely on eachother a lot or whatever? You never thought of him as a brother?"

"We were pretty old when we both got into the system, so no to thinking of him as a sibling. We've always been... friends, I suppose. I bullied him when he first arrived." Helga snorted, knowing there was _some_ truth to that.

"Oh, how _romantic_."

Helga glanced over from folding up the jacket, making sure Miriam really wasn't being sarcastic. She wasn't. The girl thought it was actually romantic that Helga bullied Arnold as a child. _Sheesh, what a loon._

"...Romantic? It's a miracle he doesn't _hate_ me."

"That's the romance in it! It's like, it's like he knew you only did that to hide your _true_ feelings for him."

"Uh. You're overestimating the guy. He's just nice."

"Whatever you say, Helga." Miri replied, in a sing-song voice. Helga twitched at the line.

It was late into the day, though just before dinner when Helga got back to the boarding house, attempting to hide the bundle of borrowed clothing under her arm when she stuffed them into her and Arnold's empty closet.

"Hey."

She shoved the sliding closet door closed, straightening back up to face Arnold.

"Sup."

He was cleaning his hands with a rag, finally looking at the girl. "I was starting to worry if you forgot and I'd have to get you from your house or something. My grandparents are about to get the car ready for the outing. Grandma wants you to help her pack some of the barbecue we're having for dinner at the beach."

"Oh god, this night is going to be _so romantic,_ huh." Helga made sure to mimic her mother's dreamy voice from earlier, though Arnold didn't fully get the joke.

"Fraid so."

They both chuckled at their situation, before heading down the stairs.

* * *

**A/N:** HAH, since when did Helga's life become a Bishounen Anime? (Sorry for delving into the romance side of the genre.) I swear; there _will_ be more adventure! But for now, review?

*_23 Elm St. Bayport New Jersey, 08234:_ Completely made up; mix of _Hardy Boys_ speculated address, and an actual zipcode.

_Purdy Boys: _Hey Arnold-verse's parody of the _Hardy Boys,_ a popular children's mystery novel series.

**_The Carpenters:_ Popular band in the 70's.

_Big Bird_: A character on _Sesame Street_, a wildly praised children's television program; who was introduced 1969.

**Bonus** - Jim-dandy: (slang) A fine piece of work, a beautiful object.


	5. Fun and Games

**Disclaimer / A/N : **All characters belong to Craig Bartlett / Viacom / etc. _Any pop-culture **& Hey Arnold universe** references have been cross-checked with Wikipedia/**Wikia** and marked with an asterisk (*)._ Teen for language & situations.

Trust me, I wanted to upload this as fast as you guys did. Please, review!

* * *

They both chuckled at their situation, before heading down the stairs.

"Ah, Eleanor, there you are! Did you enjoy your afternoon off?"

"Yeah, I had a pretty good time," Helga shrugged, accepting the mostly-thawed out hamburger patties.

The older blond smiled broadly, carefully moving the contents of the cooler so that things fit perfectly. "That's good to hear, making friends is crucial for this stage of your life."

Helga started handling a package of juice boxes, taking out half of them and packing those into the cooler. "Not necessarily..." she trailed off as she kept the rest in a corner of the trunk.

"Oh?"

"Well, this 'stage' is all about finding yourself, right? It's hard to do that with noise. As in, other people's influences." With her hands to her hips, she surveyed their work. "The way I see it, as long as you've got inspiration, you know yourself. And you don't really need anyone else."

By this time, Gertie was looking over the young woman, clucking her tongue softly. "But what if your inspiration is a person?"

Helga stiffened at the suggestion, covertly turning her head to the older woman; who herself, was now gazing at Phil lovingly as he emerged from the back door. Helga mentally sighed in relief. _I do __**not**__ want to talk about Arnold if I can help it._

"Well, then you don't need anyone else but them," she whispered. Suddenly, the teenager's mouth felt dry, biting her lip anxiously when she caught sight of _her_ darling, who was holding rolls assorted blankets under his arms. _Criminy. When did I become such a __**throw-pillow**__?_

For good measure, she made sure to punch Arnold on the shoulder when he passed by.

"What was that for?"

"Stand up straight, you look like Igor."

"Gee thanks."

The two of them piled into the backseat of the olive green jalopy in relative silence, being told by the older couple that Vada and Tai were going to caravan them.

Helga seemed to have been acting strange since the incident that morning, and something in Arnold needed to set things straight. He guessed it was all from the bout of uncharacteristic flirting(_? If it could be __**called**__ that_) he attempted, but it _could_ have been something that Miriam did that afternoon. Whatever it was, he'd rather the air be cleared between them soon, because Helga reverting to her younger-self was something he didn't need when there were more important matters at hand.

It was seven when they arrived at the pier, the sun having not quite set. Arnold held open the car door for Helga, as a classic _Harley-Davidson_ motorcycle* coasted up in the spot next to them. The two teens' jaws dropped.

Grandpa chuckled, slamming his own door. "Yeah, isn't that thing a beaut'? Pookie won't let me get one."

"We're getting old, dear. You'll end up losing your teeth in the wind!"

"Yeah yeah," he waved his hand dismissively, as he approached Tai and Vada with the three others in tow.

"Hi! I'm Vada," Vada smiled brightly up at the two, the small woman already eager to meet the new tenants.

Next, was her tall husband, military-shaved and professional. "And I'm Tai."

"You two must be Arnold and Helga!" Vada moved a dark brown curl from her face,"We've heard a lot about you two."

Helga chuckled, as Arnold responded, "Good things I hope?"

"Of course," Tai smiled, his eyes crinkling. "You guys haven't been here long enough for us to spy on you."

Everyone shared a good laugh, while Vada and Tai finished greeting Phil and Gertie. Apparently, the older couples have already talked of the night's itinerary, letting the teenagers know of it once they've arrived.

Alone time to roam around for an hour, then meeting back at parking promptly at eight. There, they'll all make their way to the beach, where there are public grills spread about the area and they'll set up their blankets for a nice, old fashioned barbecue, topped off with juice boxes and the bi-weekly bonfire.

So, Arnold and Helga were left alone together, on this pier littered with cheesy carnival games and just as cheesy couples. _Of course_ they were going to play those games. It was better than milling about in the silence they've been in since morning.

_Anything would be better than __**this**__. _Helga rolled her eyes at the awkwardness. Sighing, she abruptly grabbed his wrist, pulling him to the closest booth. She dropped his hand when they entered the tent and her eyes fell on the display. Arnold shuddered slightly at the sight.

They were standing before a creepy, glass-enclosed mechanical fortune teller. Its eyes moved, looking at them expectantly; its inner mechanisms loudly shifting as its head bobbed up and down. Then it spoke, a grainy European accent twisting through the speaker, as it extended a robotic hand toward them.

"**Would you like to know what **_**your**_** future holds?**"

Arnold grimaced, "I don't think this is a good idea, Helga..." he lightly gripped the girl's elbow to usher her out, when she yanked it out of his grasp.

"C'mon ya big baby, you think this stuff is real or something? We're already here. Might as well get something out of it."

Digging around her pocket for the quarter she found while cleaning, Arnold shifted his weight from one heel to another. For some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that something strange was going to come of this.

_Helga's right though. I'm just being ridiculous. The guys and I always used this thing when we were kids..._

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a coin falling through the slot, followed by the whirring of gears.

Arnold and Helga's eyes met for a brief second before the machine started talking.

"**From here you two do not belong, you've arrived in time to right a wrong; the answer lies in not words, but song.**"

There was a heavy silence as the machine resigned to its original welcoming position.

Helga's voice shook slightly."W-What," she cleared her throat, backing away. "I-I remember it printing things out, **not** _speaking_ actual fortunes!"

Arnold knew what was coming next, (she had that same look from when she thought she bombed an exam) and when she took her next breath, he calmly led the girl out. "Helga, _please_ don't freak out! It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be! Relax!"

Her blue eyes searched around frantically, as if looking for an answer to whatever just happened. Arnold held the other blond by the shoulders, bending his neck down slightly to be eye level with her. "C'mon Helga, get a grip on yourself. For me?" She immediately started relaxing. (_Wow, have his eyes always been this consuming?_ she thought fleetingly.) "You're right, it was supposed to print something out. But it's also the seventies. Maybe it was just ...different. And —hey, look; _I'm_ okay." he continued, "And I'm the one who _didn't_ want to go in there."

Helga shook his hands off her shoulders, suddenly defensive. "Then why didn't you just tell me that?" she snapped.

His expression dead-panned. _This girl. _He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's just go play some more games before we dissect what that _thing_ said, okay?"

"Fine."

It was a 'knock down the pyramid of milk bottles' game that caught their attention first. Helga smirked, her mood already improving. "Let's see how much better I am at this than you are, football-head."

"Yeah? Well you got yourself a competition, Pataki."

Arnold pulled out some of their joint savings for two separate rounds, asking specifically for a prize to whomever won fair and square.

It took three rounds, when suddenly Arnold threw his hands up in victory, having only beat Helga by half a second. The unamused booth-worker pulled off a large banana from the hooks behind them.

Arnold quirked a brow. "A... banana?"

The acne-prone teen shrugged in response. "Either that, or a strawberry. You guys didn't exactly play by the rules."

The blond sighed. "Fine, whatever."

When the two walked off, huge banana curled under Arnold's arm, Helga suddenly laughed.

Arnold pointed an annoyed look at the girl, who calmed down to explain her reaction. "Relax! So we paid 3 bucks for an obviously phallic object. But isn't it funny that our only choices were a banana or strawberry?"

The oblong-headed boy still didn't get it, and she continued, sighing. "You and Gerald were those fruits during my food pyramid musical in the fourth grade!"

A broad smile broke through Arnold's face, the adventure through downtown suddenly vivid in his mind. "Yeah, that's a pretty funny coincidence."

They moved onto a few other games on the boardwalk, Helga opting for the 'Strong-man bell'** as their last stop before meeting back up at the parking lot. By this time, Arnold had on him the banana, a spongy football, a pair of fuzzy dice (around his neck), John Lennon sunglasses, and a water gun in each pocket. Helga and Arnold both had on matching 'I [heart] Hillwood Pier' windbreakers, courtesy of a random person who was handing them out.

Not all the prizes on Arnold were his, of course. The two split their winnings evenly, and somehow were able to keep their apprehensions about the fortune-teller at bay. They kept the conversation light, they joking and goading eachother along the way to other games.

"Yeah you would have won if it weren't for that attractive guy that walked past right as I was about to hit."

"Whatever, Pataki. I _creamed_ you."

Helga made a face, crinkling her nose. "Ugh gross."

"_Wow_. I really didn't mean it that way," Arnold looked at her wide-eyed and flustered.

"Relax, Arnoldo." she chuckled.

_We're having a pretty good time, _Arnold nodded to bell rang sharply, shaking the boy from his thoughts, and his eyes followed the ringer as it slid back down toward a widely grinning Helga. He laughed, shifting the items in his arms to to clap. And so, Helga won their second pair of Lennon glasses and a complimentary voucher for a free spot in the couples dance contest happening later that night.

She grimaced at the paper, about to give the innocent employee a piece of her mind. Arnold reached out to look at it. He shrugged.

"It looks fun. If we win, we'd be eligible for tickets to a concert. Maybe your parents would like it."

He didn't notice his companion's cheeks flare with the suggestion, covering it up with her response. "Uh-yeah. Didn't the thing say something about _song_ being the answer? Maybe this'll be it."

"Yeah!"

She took the football from him in order to lighten his load, and they both headed to meet up with the older two pairs.

Stuffing everything they've won (except for the football and wind-breakers) into the car, they helped bring their picnic onto the beach, with Vada initiating conversation.

"Looks like you two were busy making everyone feel inadequate!"

"That was the plan." Helga smirked.

Tai interjected, "Why didn't you two ride any of the rides, though? That's what Vada and I did."

"Well, the Cheese Festival is this weekend, and I'm sure they have pretty much the same rides, so we just opted out this time," Arnold answered, helping lug the cooler along with his grandpa.

"Phil and I found the perfect spot while we were walking! There's a couple of tiki lamps left over from a party, so we could use that for light before the bonfire starts."

Everyone chatted lightheartedly as the burgers and hotdogs were grilling, looking around at the rest of the families that decided on doing the same thing for the night. Helga found it the right time to people-watch this newlywed couple.

Vada as mentioned earlier, is a short, stout woman. With dark brown hair, her fierce eyes complimented her personality well. _Moxie_** automatically came to Helga's mind. She wears a headscarf for every outfit. Because of her genial yet not overtly bubbly personality, Vada and Helga immediately hit it off.

Tai on the other hand, was the Yin to Vada's Yang; just as welcoming as his wife, yet had an air of reservation about him that held a strong, quiet confidence. He served briefly in the Vietnam War but was honorably discharged when his night terrors became increasingly worse. Vada rubbed Tai's back affectionately, as Arnold and Helga were rapt in fascination of the two's love story.

Tai threw them a crooked, thankful smile. "Yeah, she's the only one who can put up with them, and somehow" he shifted his eyes over to his wife, "—and somehow stop them."

"They get pretty bad sometimes; thank goodness we got the screaming to cut down before moving into the boarding house," her hand slid into the crown of his hair.

"How did... Why did..." Helga attempted to ask tentatively, but couldn't find the correct phrasing.

"Well. I'm an Asian-American; so a lot of it was guilt in being able to see myself within them. Some of the kids in the war, honestly didn't know what they were dying for— and would just have this look on them that I consciously kept trying to ignore. This look of innocent hatred. —I know it sounds crazy; like 'how could these two terms coincide,' but its just one of those experiences you _can't_ forget. Even if you want to."

The two teens were almost at tears, as Phil and Gertie looked on, having already heard the story themselves.

Tai brightened up. "But with Vada's strength and support, I feel like maybe _remembering_ isn't a bad thing; and coping isn't so hard anymore." He took her hand and kissed her palm.

Helga stood up, smiling gently at the two before excusing herself quietly. Arnold's eyes followed her movements, letting her walk along the shore for a few minutes before feeling compelled to follow.

Without a word, he slid his hand within hers, just as a reassuring gesture, and kept walking.

"Is something wrong?"

She didn't look up, yet answered in an unsure voice. "My parents... I know, I _know_ they love eachother. But its definitely not like _that_." She gestured vaguely at the picnic table, "...And I know it's silly to think of, since we're pretty young; but I want a love like that." She let go of his hand.

He slipped them into his pockets and cleared his throat before speaking. "Helga, so what if we're young? It's okay to think of things like that. To want things like that. Everyone deserves love like that; and I'm sure someone will love you like that one day."

Her blue eyes pierced into his, as if trying to pry into his thoughts. All she saw was his honesty, and nothing more. Her gaze dropped. "You don't understand, Arnold."

She looked up once again, but he was gone.

Spinning around, she saw him kneeling into the surf, filling up both of the water pistols. He winked, aiming and shooting at her in the descending night, before running toward the safety of the table. She shook her head in response before smirking, and set off after the boy, both of them shooting at one another and both of them purposefully missing.

Arnold couldn't get rid of Helga's voiced-out thoughts. Throughout dinner, he kept glancing at this girl, this girl he's known and loved for so long... _Wait, love?_ He darted his gaze to the other two couples, shaking his head. _It's a different love, not their love_. He reassured himself this. He wasn't sure he was yet _capable_ of loving someone so deeply, _and yet_...

A piece of burger lodged itself happily in his windpipe, causing him to sputter helplessly as Helga reflexively reached for a juicebox to place at his mouth as her other hand patted his back rhythmically.

"Criminy football-head, learn to eat!"

He laughed weakly after the episode, looking at her thankfully. But their eyes lingered too long on one another's and he swore he couldn't look away.

Helga snapped her neck toward the pier above them, clearing her throat as she did so. "Is-is it just me or did you hear our names?"

The rest of them craned their necks to listen to the weak, bullhorn echo of what seemed to be an announcement, stemming from the direction of the setting sun.

WILL THE GUEST-COMPETITORS - MARIE AND MAX, ARNOLD AND HELGA, DAMIEN AND ANNA, ZEKE AND NATASHA - MAKE THEIR WAY TO THE DANCE FLOOR FOR OUR AMATEUR HOUR! FIVE MINUTES OR THE SPOT GETS TAKEN BY A PAIR OF VOLUNTEERS.

By the time Helga looked back at Arnold to make sure he wanted to do this, he was already up and had an elbow extended toward her. The rest of the family stood up as well, eager to see whether they'll fare well. The girl sighed, knees slightly shaking from nervousness.

"What if we make fools of ourselves?"

"We won't. There are far worse dancers than us. Especially ones usually found at the strong-man bell. Besides, if I remember correctly, we don't make a bad pair on the dancefloor."

He winked _again_ toward her, not that she was keeping count. (She really was.)

As they all walked along, Helga thought back to their very first dance, where he spun her almost aggressively (well as aggressive as Arnold can get) across the gym floor —and then again during an awkward middle school dance where the teachers insisted that _everybody_ paired up so as not to feel left out. He _just_ _so happened _to have been next to her in line for punch.

Her partner that night could have **easily** been Pink-boy or Sid, if it weren't for her brash self pushing her and Phoebe's way through the crowd. She gulped, almost having forgotten that memory. Her small palms were _so_ sweaty, but so were his, from trying to ask some other _older_ girl to dance. She remembered how he ranted quietly to her while they so naturally glided along, not even noticing the growing crowd of people that formed to watch the prepubescent couple exhibit some other-worldly grace.

She remembered how both relieved and annoyed she felt toward him then; relieved that he _wasn't_ dancing with that airhead (he always seemed to be attracted to those), yet annoyed because that's all he talked about. But then at the end of the song, he looked her in the eye (finally her height) and smiled with gratification.

"Thanks for the dance, Helga."

"Y-yeah. No problem, Arnold."

Since then, no one dared make fun of the spectacle (save for Harold who got the air knocked out of him for it) and it became one of those fleeting moments, tucked in the folds of her memory. Maybe even _his_ memory.

So there they were. On a large space of plywood, underneath cheap hanging lights, with _The Temptations_* blaring through the speakers that called for them earlier. They surely weren't alone, people were milling about to watch, along with the older couples, and the other contestants showed up around the time they did. There was even a pair, Marie and Max, who were the tender age of nine. But Helga surely felt like they were alone.

Arnold whistled in awe. "Brave kids."

"I've known braver."

She stilled her quickened heart using the breathing exercises she learned from Dr. Bliss from so long ago. Things seemed to be going crazy for her, she didn't need those techniques for the longest time. If Arnold was nervous, he surely didn't show it, and he led her along; spins and dips, smiles and silent conversation through their eyes.

They won, of course. The other couples were dismissed fairly quickly, but the judges for some reason, decided to let the song play till its end, where everyone erupted into hollers and applause.

Helga blushed, ducking away quickly to where someone held out their free tickets, and the two blonds were waved over by Arnold's grandparents.

Vada and Tai smiled brightly at the two when Gertie gushed, "Wow, it was like you guys were professionals!"

Arnold bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. "I was just taught, is all. Besides, Helga did most of the work."

Her jaw dropped. _What is he talking about...? _But before she was able to speak, the Honduran ran up to the two of them, breathless.

"Arnold!"

Arnold backed away from the other boy cautiously, eliciting an odd look from Helga, as the older couples went to talk to the other competitors from earlier. The darker skinned boy smiled, not noticing Arnold's reaction.

"I wanted to congratulate you. My people have an appreciation for the art of dance." The boy then reached out to pat the blond's shoulder, but Arnold flinched and jerked away from the motion.

Honduran seemed a bit crestfallen, causing Helga to pull Arnold by the elbow and hold a finger to the other kid. "One moment."

Her voice lowered to a harsh whisper. "What is _wrong_ with you? Wasn't it just a day ago you were jumping at the chance to talk to this kid?"

"Yeah but.. I'm not supposed to trust him." He shot the shorter boy a suspicious look, as the foreigner idly glanced around.

It was Helga's turn to don a deadpan expression. "Oh, right. Of course."

"Look, I'll tell you tonight. Just. We need to get out of here."

Helga sighed, having lost patience a minute ago. "Yeah whatever."

She turned to the kid, taking up the responsibility of getting rid of him. "Look, I'm going to throw up from all the corn dogs from earlier, so if you excuse Arnold and I, we'll just see you at school."

The boy nodded sympathetically at her fictitious pain, hobbling away.

"See? Piece of cake. Why can't you be _less_ obvious."

Arnold shrugged, "I'm just an honest guy."

"Well, too bad for you because we're secretly in the wrong era."

"Let's just go."

It was 10pm when everyone clattered back into the boarding house, Jimmy having just tucked in Miles.

Phil slapped his oldest son's back jovially. "Arnold and Helga won free tickets to a concert!"

"Oh?"

Arnold nodded, while bringing their assorted prizes up the stairs, having every intention to place them in Miles's room. Helga spoke for the both of them. "Yeah, we danced our asses off."

"They were marvelous!" Vada chimed in, with Tai following.

"Dazzling, actually!"

Jimmy nodded in approval. "I'd like to see this sometime. What concert?"

Helga stuck her tongue out in concentration as she fished her windbreaker for the stubs. "James Brown."

"Nice."

"Yeah, but we're planning on giving them to a friend of mine, she's way more of a fan than we are." She ascended up the stairs, with the brunette right behind.

"Charitable, if I do say so myself."

"Nah."

This was too much. Sure, the guys in high school were said to have found her attractive, but she was also intimidating, so she didn't _need_ to associate with guys she found aesthetically pleasing unless she desensitized herself to it. Arnold was the only exception. And now it felt like there were _two_ of him.

Jimmy passed her as he walked toward his room, and Helga opened the door to her and Arnold's. Or rather, she would have opened the door, if it weren't locked. Thinking he was changing or something, she made her way to the bathroom, passing by Mr. Smith's door on the way.

A camera flash, and subsequent printing noise. She turned her head toward the door, seeing a slip of paper emerge from a part of the wall where a doorbell would be.

_You have been compromised._

The pixie-cut blond walked closer to the door, and it opened on its own accord, a blinding white light engulfing her vision.

* * *

**A/N: **Oh man oh man what's gonna happen.

*_Harley-Davidson:_ I was thinking specifically the 1950 Panhead

_The Temptations: _Band of the 70's. (_Just My Imagination_)

**_Strong-man Bell_: AKA _High Striker_

_Moxie_: (n.) slang; The ability to face difficulty with spirit and courage. Aggressive energy; initiative.


End file.
